


caving in, the walls crush me

by FroggyLover



Category: Banana Fish (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Based off of a nightmare I had last night, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Eiji has an epiphany about Ash’s past but he has bigger fish to fry atm, Eiji has some kinda broken English so, M/M, Racist Language, Rape, bitches be like I got raped in my dream last night so now I have to project, but it’s not happy, its me I’m bitches, minor xenophobia, no beta we die like men, sorry in advance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-11
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:40:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24662434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FroggyLover/pseuds/FroggyLover
Summary: Eiji crosses paths with some less than kind students in the storage room.Where can he go from here?
Relationships: Ash Lynx & Okumura Eiji, Ash Lynx/Okumura Eiji, Frederick Arthur/Okumura Eiji, Okumura Eiji/Wookie
Comments: 74
Kudos: 217





	1. 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bolded dialogue is in Japanese

It’s cramped and cold and damp, and Eiji wants to go home.

He’s shoved himself between a cart full of basketballs and the wall. It doesn’t feel like enough coverage. Not when they’re so close, every breath so loud, and every footstep closer than the last. The small school storage room doesn’t allow for much leeway if he makes a mistake.

You see, Eiji has just become the accidental witness to what is without a doubt the most fucked up conversation he’s ever heard in his high school career. 

“-heard if you give them enough, they won’t remember what happened.” One of the students says. It’s not a voice he recognizes. The cart creaks and pushes him further against the wall as someone leans against it, but Eiji doesn’t risk a peek above the edge to see who. 

They’re close. So close. A glance and it’s all over. He doesn’t know what ‘roofie’ means, but from what he’s gathered, this isn’t a conversation he can just say ‘ _Sorry to interrupt_!’ and leave in the middle of.

“You’d probably need to give him more than one drink if you wanted to be sure.” He knows this voice though, deep and somehow always mocking. Arthur. Shorter had said to avoid him, a few months previous when Eiji first transferred. “I ain’t ever used it when I fucked ‘em.”

“Not even Ash?”

A sharp breath. “I haven’t fucked that whore, Wookie. Dino’d be on my ass if I did.”

A bead of cool sweat snakes down the back of Eiji’s neck. Ash? The stone in his stomach becomes heavier.

“It’s not like Dino wouldn’t let you if you asked, ‘specially with you doing some work for him now,” Wookie laughs.

Why would they need Mr. Golzine’s permission for anything concerning Ash? In his mind, pieces are clicking into place, forming a grotesque picture.

There’s a lull in their conversation at this point. The crinkle of chip packaging is the only sound. It only takes a moment for things to go wrong. Someone must bump into the cart with more purpose— because it rolls over Eiji’s fingers.

“ _Shit_ -!” His own voice cuts through the silence, panicked and tinny. He yanks his hand back to clamp it over his mouth, as though he could pack the words back down his throat. 

“Hello?”

He can only imagine his expression as he meets their eyes, them now peering over the cart. Wookie looks confused. Arthur just grins widely.

Pushing himself to his feet, Eiji tries to squeeze between Arthur and some boxes of jerseys. “Gomenasai. I was just putting the, um-“ Arthur sidesteps into his path. _No. Please move._ “-the vol… volleyball away?”

Apparently this is hilarious. Wookie snickers.

“It’s volleyball,” he says, and Eiji’s cheeks flush with sudden frustration. “Not vorreyball.”

Arthur’s eyes drag over Eiji’s face for a moment. It’s gross, somehow. He doesn’t want to put an emotion to that stare. 

“Hey, Samurai boy,” God, what a nickname. Eiji gives up on shuffling past him and presses his back to the wall. The air stills. “You were there for the whole conversation right? ‘Bout the Rohypnol and Ash n’ Dino?”

_Please just let him through._

Eiji nods.

A hand wraps itself around his throat before he can even blink. Kicking out on instinct, he just barely misses Arthur’s shin and knocks over the jersey boxes.

“Hey, hey. Calm down,” Says the blond, reaching into his pocket. Eiji’s eyes track the movement, widening when he pulls out something long and metal and- oh god, he’s gonna die. Arthur’s gonna stab him. He wants Ibe, or Shorter, or Mr. Glenreed to just _please, please, please **open the door.**_ “Calm down.”

He chokes out, “Arthur, I do not-“

“What’re you gonna do? If he snitches to Ash, he’ll know what you’ve been planning.” Wookie again. At some point he’s backed off and returned to eating his shitty off brand potato chips. Arthur loosens his grip on Eiji’s throat, scoffing over his shoulder.

“Like he doesn’t already. I’ve made it pretty damn clear where I stand.” He leans into the smaller boy’s space. The scarred fingers of one hand dig into skin. The others are wrapped around a switchblade. “You though… you don’t know anything? Right?”

Eiji clenches his jaw. Nothing solid, really. He can only guess. Ash was frustrating in that he thought keeping him in the dark and at a distance was safer.

Eiji’s hand flys up to grip the other’s wrist.

“Let me through.”

A manic grin takes over Arthur’s face again, and Eiji knows he’s answered wrong. Fingers find their way into black locks, suddenly his world turns sideways.

He narrowly avoids cracking his skull open on the edge of the cart, one arm cushioning his fall as he’s shoved. He scrambles to stand again, feet slipping over fallen jerseys and tile. Shaking, he’s shaking. Arthur lifts his foot and plants it in the center of Eiji’s chest, pushing until the latter is pinned to the floor.

The blond is silhouetted from where Eiji lays trapped. His smile dies down to a minor twitch of the lips. The press of a boot on ribs feels like a death sentence.

“That’s not an answer.” It pushes down harder. Air wheezes it’s way out of Eiji’s mouth.

He gasps. “I do not even— **It hurts** — _I do not understand the question_!”

It’s not a lie, exactly. Though the past few minutes have brought forward things Eiji has always wondered about Ash. Why is Ash so adverse to touch? Why does Ash tense around adults? 

Why is Ash so scared?

Eiji thinks he knows now. It has to have something to do with Mr. Golzine. The way Arthur talked as if Dino had some claim over Ash.

Eiji is scared too.

“Ohhh, right!” Arthur snaps his fingers, eyes widening as though he’s had an epiphany. He throws Wookie a sly glance. In response, the darker skinned boy puts aside his food with a soft ‘oh’. “You don’t speak enough English for that, huh chink? Don’t worry.”

Footsteps approach Eiji, and Wookie’s hands grasp at his wrists, pulling them above his head and pinning them to the tile. Arthur’s boot lifts from his chest, but Eiji still can’t breathe. Every breath is ragged and painful, his vision tunnels to where Arthur is nudging his knees apart.

“ _N- no._ ” It’s a whisper, barely a noise at all.

“Don’t worry at all. I’ll be accommodating to the poow foweighn kid, and show you just what it is Ash hates so much about me and well— quite a few others! Actions speak louder, n’ all that.”

Dropping to his knees, Arthur slots himself between Eiji’s legs. His arms are stretched taut from how hard he’s pulling against Wookie’s grip. He tries to curl in on himself, but Arthur slips the knife beneath the hem of Eiji’s sweater, and the feel of cool metal on his abdomen is enough to still him. Eiji struggles to find his words, teeth chattering.

“I- I said no. **Get away**! Go!” He hopes he’s wrong. He prays they’re just playing a prank— cruel but a joke nonetheless. 

“Yikes, boy. Keep talking like that and I might start to feel bad,” Says Wookie. Like that wasn’t the _fucking point_.

Arthur works on pulling both of their belts loose, before leaning over Eiji. He loops one of the belts around the Japanese boy’s shaking wrists. The cheap leather bites into his flesh. Since his own hands are freed now, Wookie palms himself through his jeans and undoes the buttons.

Too close, his crotch is way too close to Eiji’s face. The moment he feels cold fingers skim over the top of his own pants, the boy’s whole body jerks. 

A realization descends on him, gleaming like a warm cabin in pouring rain. 

Eiji thrashes his body, mindful of where Arthur is still clinging to his open switchblade ( _It’s just for show! There’s no way he can kill Eiji here!_ ). He shouts, no, screams, “Somebody open the door! Help me! Help, help, **_help_** —!”

Arthur reacts first, rushing to clap a hand over his mouth. “Are you begging me to gut you, whore?!” Sinking his teeth into the blond’s hand is something Eiji isn’t ashamed to say he enjoys. Immediately Arthur recoils, eyes alight with rage. The only thing keeping Eiji from jumping up is the weight of Wookie’s hands on his shoulders.

“You can’t- you can’t kill me! You can’t do anything permanent because the cameras outside know it was you- it was you, asshole!” He shouts, tears pricking his eyes. “I die and everyone knows!”

The strike comes faster than Eiji can see. His head snaps to the side, and his bound hands come down to graze the handprint that is no doubt forming. Wookie whistles lowly.

“Ohhh shit! I don’t think I want my dick near his mouth anymore.”

“You too! I’ll—“

“Fucking shut up, both of you!“ Arthur’s fingers hook into the top of the Japanese boy’s pants again. He yanks them down none too gently, and doesn’t even bother taking them entirely off of one of Eiji’s legs. His underwear is cut from his body before Arthur flips his knife shut and pockets it, hissing under his breath the entire time. “Good job figuring that out, Samurai boy. Have fun choking on this while you take _both_ of our cocks, now.”

Fingers pry Eiji’s jaw open, and he’s humiliated to find his own underwear being shoved past his lips. Cold air pricks at the bare lower half of his body. His face turns red in embarrassment and distress.

Wookie shifts behind him, wiggling out of his pants. Arthur pulls his own down just enough to expose his erection. Digits dig into the boy’s hip bone, pulling their crotches closer. Eiji’s terror is suffocating him, every touch feels like he’s being burned with invisible brands.

“You a virgin, boy?” Questions Wookie, although Eiji doesn’t answer. It’s not like he can’t spit the gag out, but he doesn’t want to get the shit beat out of him only to have this happen anyway. He just needs to endure. He’s focusing on keeping his eyes on the ceiling, away from where Wookie is languidly stroking his length, and away from where Arthur’s eyes are boring into his face. 

He just—

Something wet prods his opening.

_He just_ —

Arthur pushes in two fingers with little warning. Both he and Wookie chuckle at the way Eiji squeals in pain. _It burns._

_**He just**_ —!

Wookie full on guffaws when Eiji gets one hand free, only to have it fist in his sweater as his back arches off the tile in an attempt to get them out. He wants to kill them. He wants to die. Every muscle in his body is weak and trembling. Only two fingers feel like he’s being torn apart. 

“Huh, I guess Ash never broke his bitch in. Quit tensin’ up or you’ll get blood on my clothes.”

Arthur pumps his fingers probably three times before deciding that it’s good enough. The fingers leave Eiji, only to have something much bigger sliding against the entrance a moment later. The Japanese boy’s knees instinctively try to close, but only end up tightening on either side of Arthur.

It’s awful. Eiji can’t imagine ever doing this to anyone. He struggles not to vomit as Arthur spits into his hand and slicks himself up— only barely though. Can’t have this going too easy, apparently.

Eiji whimpers mindlessly through the cloth, pleading for a change of heart. Arthur positions the head of his cock, and sneers.

“I wonder what he’d say if he knew you were this easy.”

He snaps his hips forward and Eiji _screams_. The sheer agony of his body trying to accommodate the sudden intrusion makes his jaw fall open and his body twist. The gag is coughed up when he chokes on it.

Eiji sobs, “Take- take it out! I’m dying, I’m dying, I’m gonna _dieeeee_!”

“Damn, he’s actually kinda hot.” Almost as though in direct contrast, Wookie moans, pumping his dick. “Is he good?”

“Feels like he’s gonna tear my cock off. Fucking hell… Ash is missing out.” Arthur finally sheathes himself fully inside, and he reaches over Eiji to fist a hand in the boy’s hair. His breath ghosts across Eiji’s face, tear-filled eyes meeting cruelly amused ones. He sighs, rolling his hips experimentally. It’s Hell on Earth. “You’re a natural cocksleeve.”

“... **and you are the devil himself** ,” Eiji spits back.

Arthur shrugs in response, not caring to ask what insults are being hurled his way, before pulling his hips back and slamming in. Eiji’s hands scrabble for purchase as Arthur starts setting his rhythm, fast and overwhelming. One hand is digging its nails into Arthur’s wrist as he uses Eiji’s hair for leverage. The other is blindly groping for nothing in particular. A high pitched wail fills the room despite his best attempts to just shut up and get over with this.

“Oh f-fuck, samurai boy.” When will it end? Does it ever end? Is Eiji dying? He thinks he must be. His whole body is clenching and spasming and he tries to think about anything but the pain. But Arthur is grunting in his ear and Wookie is half-laughing half-moaning and Eiji is crying and he _can’t stop and they **won’t stop and—!**_ “I’m gonna cum. M’gonna cum, you’re so goddamn tight.”

_Go ahead! Do it and leave!_

Arthur’s movements grow in violence and desperation. He lets Eiji’s head drop back to the tile, choosing instead to wrap his hand around the boy’s throat and strangle the sobs spilling from his lips. Eiji’s hand that had been splayed across the floor suddenly brushes across something when he grips Arthur’s pants. “Jesus fucking Christ, samurai boy!”

Arthur is in the throes of stolen pleasure, oblivious to the fact that Eiji Okumura has just found where he keeps his knife. Just as Eiji’s vision begins to blacken at the edges, just as Arthur starts to fill him, fingers find the handle of a switchblade.

His limbs are too shaky to flip it open at first, so Eiji chooses to slam the butt of the knife against Arthur’s cheek. Arthur shouts in pain and releases Eiji’s throat to clutch his face. Eiji pulls himself off of the dick inside of him (mid-ejaculation, fucking gross.), scurrying backwards and hurrying to open the knife. Wookie blinks in disbelief.

“ **You’re both monsters** ー!” Eiji yells, throat raw from crying. The switchblade is his lifeline, held tightly in front of him. It gleams beneath the dim lighting. “Just stop! Stop it and leave me alone! Please, please please, _please_ —“

He repeats the word like it’s holy. In some ways it is. Arthur stares at him, sweat shining on his brow and looking torn between killing Eiji or backing off. Wookie cautiously reaches for where he threw his jeans.

“My mistake. Sorry for finishing without you. Wanna take your turn another time, Wookie?” Arthur smirks, but it’s uncertain. It enrages Eiji to know that the apology _isn’t even for him_. And another time? Never.

“ _No_ -“

“I guess so. Not interested in being the one who gets impaled by a twink.” Wookie sounds just as surprised. He chuckles a little to himself. Eiji almost stabs him right there.

Another time. How _fun_.

Eiji’s glare must be heated, judging by the way the two other boys squirm a little as they redress. Arthur clicks his tongue and reaches into his pocket, pulling out a phone. He taps the screen a few times before turning the camera to Eiji.

“Say cheese, cumslut.” 

The light flashes and Eiji flinches. Fear blossoms in his chest at the thought of Arthur being able to look back on this whenever.

Of Arthur being able to tell whoever he wants.

Eiji just swallows and readjusts his grip on the knife. “Don’t tell—“

“Ash?” Fear turns to panic.

“Don’t tell _anyone_!”

Arthur throws back his head and laughs, a low, grating noise that rubs Eiji’s ears unpleasantly. “See you soon, samurai boy. Let’s go.”

He and Wookie leave without another word. Arthur’s belt hangs off of one of Eiji’s wrists— they must have taken his with them.

His shoulders heave, the knife drops from his hands and clatters to the ground. He can’t vomit anything up, no part of his body is cooperating. He cries and cries and cries and the tears are never ending. The tile is cool against his wet cheek and his thighs are slick and red and bruised to match his purple throat. He needs to get up and find Ash or Shorter or Sing, even the kid who sits behind him in math would do, but he’s being torn to shreds from the inside out. It’s agony. It’s numbing.

_It’s silent. It’s cramped and cold and damp, and Eiji wants to go home._


	2. 2

Eiji gets up, eventually.

His legs wobble under his weight, and his lower back screams in protest, but he makes it to his feet. He wipes away the blood on his thighs and off of the floor with some tissues he finds on a shelf. He pulls his jeans on. He pockets his shredded underwear. He kicks Arthur’s belt beneath the cart. He _leaves_.

According to his phone (It had been in his back pocket, and for a moment he’d feared it was broken from the new crack etched across its screen protector.), he’s been gone for 56 minutes. He rubs his eyes. The worst eternity of his life hadn’t even taken a full hour. It’s funny how these things work.

Eiji hurries to the locker room, keeping his head ducked down for the short walk. Get in, get out. He snatches his bag off of the bench and turns to leave.

“Ah, Okumura?” Startling at the deep voice calling his name, Eiji pulls his sweater’s collar closer to his neck. It’s just Coach Varishikov. He’s standing in the doorway, glancing up from the clipboard in his hands. “Did you finish putting away the dodgeballs?”

_ Oh, you didn’t get the ball name right either, Wookie.  _

“Yes. And um, I- I forgot my bag. Have a good day, sir.” Shit, his voice is wrecked. He makes his way to the door, and has to fight a relieved sigh when Coach steps aside and lets him through.

“You too.” Coach Varishikov says, before squinting at Eiji. The younger’s whole body tenses. “And quit overworking your ankle, you’re limping again.”

_Something_ tells him that’s not all the man wants to say. Eiji knows he looks like shit, and Coach sounds resigned about whatever he thinks caused his raw voice and puffy eyes.

Eiji smiles half-heartedly. His shoulders sag in relief (or maybe disappointment) that he doesn’t press. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

The walk home is a form of torture itself. Once he leaves school grounds, he almost expects his feet to sink straight through the pavement. They don’t— he kind of wishes they would. Every step sends a bolt of pain up his spine. The November chill stings the tips of his ears and nose.

Calling Ibe for a ride home isn’t an option. Even if Ibe didn’t have a faculty meeting going on, Eiji doesn’t think he could look his mentor in the eye right now. He doesn’t think he could look anyone in the eye ever again.

As he trudges down the sidewalk, the adrenaline starts to wear off. His limbs turn heavy, weighed down with shame and ache. In the blink of an eye, Eiji is staring at his bedroom wall, not remembering when the steps started to blur together and lead him home. At least he’d thought to take his shoes off as he entered, it showed he could function even in his hazy state.

Right. Functioning is probably going to be important for the next few… days? He thinks, and then immediately backtracks. No. _Forever. I’ll be like this forever._

His little sister texts him, the ping of the notification startling him. “ _stop tearing into me about the charm wwww (๑･̑◡･̑๑)find urself a lady Neet.”_

Apparently, it’s not just holding eye contact that’s an issue anymore. His lips press into a thin line at Saeko’s message— lighthearted as it is.Type. Delete. Type. _Delete_. He doesn’t know what to say.

_ Forever? _

Eiji limps into the bathroom. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see his reflection— he’s relieved to find that the blow to his face hadn’t bruised. He places his phone on the counter. Fingers, trembling just so, hook at the hem of his sweater and pull it off. Without looking into the mirror, he discards the rest of his clothing. 

The water is turned onto the highest temperature when he steps in. He scrubs his chest, his arms, his neck (gingerly, it’s throbbing). When he moves the rag to wipe his legs and thighs, they give out beneath him. He catches himself on the wall with a gasp, and lowers himself down until he’s slumped beneath the stream.

It hurts. That’s right. Eiji’d forgotten the pain in his throat ( _fingers squeezing,_ ) and his thighs ( _slick with something,_ ) and the curve of his spine ( _slammed down again,_ ) and he’s back there. He’s in the room. They aren’t there, but they might as well be.

The first sniffle is heard over the white noise of the shower, and a dam is broken.

“What the fuck was that?” Eiji asks, voice wobbling. “Someone tell me! I don’t- I, _I can’t—_ “

He lurches forward and finally, finally, finally throws up. It’s disgusting. He’s disgusting. He can’t stop the sobbing, inhaling more shower mist than air, watching his lunch get washed down the drain.

“ _Kaasan_. O-kaasan, I don’t know what to do—“ Eiji feels so stupid, calling for his mother. He misses her hugs. The warmth of an unfaithful wife, but a loving mother. He hates her. He misses her. He doesn’t hate her at all.

He chokes out, “I’m sorry— I’m so sorry.” Regret is nothing new to Eiji, but this is another level of despair. “I should’ve— _Hnnggh_!” His stomach spasms again, trying to empty itself of nothing but acid, now.

The shower turns cold after a while. Eiji has to rewash himself, squinting through tears and soap. The worst part is when he tries to clean where the damage is most severe. The rag brushes his ass and he has to kneel beneath the water just to regain his breath, the molten agony catching him off guard. When he pulls it away to inspect it, the cloth is dyed an ugly red. He makes sure the rag is covered by some old trash when he throws it in the garbage bin.

After toweling himself off, Eiji pulls on an oversized hoodie, hoping it’s enough to cover his neck. His sweatpants are soft and loose, and he stuffs toilet paper into his underwear in case he starts bleeding again. The clothes he had been wearing earlier are unceremoniously shoved to the bottom of a laundry basket in the back of his closet. Eiji lays on his bed and stares at the ceiling, his phone resting on his chest. 

It’s almost 5:30. Nearly 2 hours have passed since Eiji set foot in the storage room.

One thing Eiji doesn’t know is why he’s trying so hard to hide this. Surely, if he told, Arthur and Wookie would be arrested? That’s how this is supposed to work, right? But the thought of opening his mouth makes his tongue go dry, and his mind race, and his breath quicken.

Eiji doesn’t want to say a word. He wishes he did. Nothing is certain, now. Not while Arthur still has the-

_ Fuck! The picture! **I forgot about the picture**! _

Eiji bolts upright on the mattress. His phone flies off of his body and clatters onto the hardwood, though he can’t bring himself to care. The walls seem to close in. He pushes himself up from the bed and marches to his bedroom door. Not knowing where he needs to go, but sure that if he stays a moment longer, he’ll never leave his room again.

The flash of a phone’s camera dances across his vision. It remains no matter how hard Eiji blinks or rubs at his eyes. When he peeks into the hallway, the light is so blinding that he nearly misses the way the handle of his apartment door rattles.

“Tadaima!” Ibe calls, stepping inside and bending down to untie his shoes. The boy freezes half through his doorway.

“Oh,” Eiji smooths his panicked expression as best he can, “Okaeri, Ibe-san.” He clasps his hands in front of him. Blunt nails dig into the skin of his palms.

Can Ibe see his neck? Is Eiji’s posture too stiff? Did Coach mention his limp? Does he know? Does he know, does he know, _does he_ —

Ibe just takes off his jacket, hangs it up on the hook, and talks as he moves down the hall towards the kitchen. “I’m sorry for being so late, Max wanted to talk to me about something. Have you eaten?”

“Not yet. I was just about to cook something.” Eiji regrets his words before he even gets them out. His gut clenches in hunger, but eating so soon after throwing up seems like he’s setting himself up for a vomit-stained bedspread later tonight.

Following Ibe into the kitchen, Eiji’s distress must show on his face because he’s met with the elder raising his brow. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I am just not feeling good.”

Ibe hums, reaches forward, and presses the back of his hand to Eiji’s forehead. It takes everything in the boy’s power to not flinch. “You’re a little warm. Go lay down, Ei-chan.”

“Ah, I can still cook for you—“

“I think I’m capable of making something edible for myself.” Ibe smiles, warm and fatherly. “Just make sure to drink some water and rest. The food will still be here later if you get hungry.”

Eiji nods, thankful, and suddenly he doesn’t know why his body tried to pull away from such a nurturing touch. 

( _There’s some ugly part of his mind, small and quiet but still there. A part that begs to know, why didn’t his guardian come when he screamed? He’d probably been only a hall away, so surely—_ )

Eiji nods again. “Thank you, Ibe-san.” No. Ibe didn’t do anything wrong.

( _Maybe he hadn’t. But Eiji had. It was only two guys. He’s a former athlete goddamnit! Although, his body has slimmed, and his muscles have softened and— oh god he really is weak. He really—_ )

So, Eiji fetches a water bottle from the fridge, and briefly steps into his room to fetch his phone. He pulls the blanket off of his bed and slings it over his shoulder. Settling on the couch, Eiji pulls the blanket around himself. 

Out here, in the living room, Eiji catches the smell of Ibe’s cooking as it wafts by. The light from the kitchen is warm, and he finds himself leaning towards it, burrowing in the couch cushions and fuzzy cloth. Ibe is murmuring small frustrations as he apparently burns himself on something. It’s silly. It’s safe.

He clicks his phone on. Almost immediately he’s flooded with notifications from the group chat.

**[Lorax Movie Discussion Group]**

—— _5:36 p.m_ ——

**Shortstack:** change my fucking name rn

**Taller:** … Nah 💖

**Shortstack:** AT LEAST GIVE ME ADMIN SO I CAN DO IT MYSELF SHORTER

**Skipper:** why would he do that

**Skipper:** anyways

**_Skipper changed their name to God_ **

**God:** Guess who also has admin, Sing? 🤩

Eiji smiles softly, burying his nose into the arm of the couch. It fades just as fast when he remembers. He remembers, _and remembers, **and remembers**_. It’s only been a few hours and Eiji is starting to see that this isn’t something he’ll ever fully forget.

He goes to turn his phone off again when another message is sent.

**Taller:** eiji i see those read receipts don’t be shy

**Shortstack:** Eiji tell Shorter to change my name

**Ass Lynx:** who changed mine

**God:** scroll back if you wanna find out so bad smh

Eiji decides to lie, knowing that the only way he could even try to succeed in doing so to Ash would be over text.

**NattoEnthusiast:** I’m eating. Also the names are fine you babies.

**Ass Lynx:** yeah maybe for someone with a name as shitty as NattoEnthusiast.

**God:** I will NOT stand for Eiji bashing in this chat. I hereby remove you from your position as captain of the Eiji Protection Foundation.

**NattoEnthusiast:** ...The what?

**Ass Lynx:** you don’t have the balls

**God:** Skip might not, but God sure does.

**Ass Lynx:** also don’t worry about it eiji

It’s so hard to believe it. If Eiji’s assumptions in the storage room were true, then that would mean… Ash has been violated like that as well? And by a donor to the school no less. Mr. Golzine was a bit off-putting, Eiji wouldn’t lie. They had met briefly when he’d first transferred from Japan. 

Eiji had walked into the principal’s office to receive his schedule. Mr. Golzine had been speaking to Mr. Lee (The elder, as apparently his brother Hua Lung was Assistant Principal.) and Eiji had smiled and nodded and swallowed his complaints when Mr. Golzine squeezed his shoulder for a _moment too long_ as he congratulated Eiji on his bravery. He introduced himself as a financial beneficiary to the school. Eiji hadn’t really cared, just snatched his schedule a little more impolitely than he would have otherwise and shuffled awkwardly from the room.

That had been that though. Eiji and Ash had similar vices, but he knew, _he just knew_ that Golzine was more than a run-in to Ash. He was something enough to have ownership over a human body.

He wanted so badly to tell Ash. To tell someone who knew.

_ But what if I’m wrong? What if Ash somehow sees the photo? He’ll never look at me the same again. _

So he watches as his friends snap and poke at each other over text. He watches and thinks about how easy it would be to type out the message. How easy would it be to turn to Ibe and say it?

_ Arthur and Wookie hurt me. They raped me. _

That’s all it would take— over text or in person. The kitchen light is off now, Ibe probably having taken his dinner into his office/bedroom for work. The smell of slightly burnt rice lingers.

Eiji turns his phone off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I’m not entirely happy with this chapter, nor do I know where I’m going with this. HOWEVER I am hoping to have someone suplex Dino, Arthur, and Wookie simultaneously by the end of the story so 😤


	3. 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To clear up ages of the cast (from oldest to youngest):
> 
> Arthur- 18 y/o senior 
> 
> Shorter- 18 y/o senior
> 
> Eiji- 17 y/o senior
> 
> Ash- 17 y/o senior
> 
> Wookie- 17 y/o senior
> 
> Alex- 17 y/o senior
> 
> Kong- 16 y/o junior
> 
> Bones- 16 y/o junior
> 
> Sing- 15 y/o sophomore 
> 
> Skipper- 14 y/o freshman

That first night, sleep is restless. Eiji weaves in and out of consciousness, never staying awake long enough to check the time or see how the moonbeams creep across the floor as hours pass. At one point, Ibe tucks a pillow beneath Eiji’s head as he sleeps. In the dark, he doesn’t catch sight of the purple dusting of bruises wrapping their way around the boy’s throat.

When Eiji jerks awake for the last time, Ibe is in the kitchen again. Glancing over from the coffee machine, he gestures to the stove’s clock.

“Ah, Ei-chan, you’re up. You‘re a bit early, though.” Eiji swallows and grimaces at how dry his mouth is. His stomach screams for food, so he grabs the water bottle from the day previous and sips at the last remainders of water. His eyes find the time: 7 O’clock on the dot.

Ibe speaks again, “Are you feeling better?” And Eiji nods because he needs his mentor to believe that everything is fine. At least until he sorts out his feelings, whenever that might be.

He lies. His whole body aches from sleeping on the couch on top of his injuries, but it was worth not being trapped in his room. “Yeah, I think it is just a little bit of… build up? In the head?”

“Congestion,” Ibe supplies, shuffling around the kitchen to grab cereal from a cabinet and shake the box in Eiji’s direction. “Well, if you’re feeling better then go get ready. And at least eat something.”

“I know, I know,” Says Eiji, pushing himself up and off the couch cushions. He pulls the blanket with him as he trudges to his room, dumping it onto the bed with a sigh.

After triple checking that the door is locked, Eiji pulls down his pants and peeks at the tissue still in his underwear. Save for a small spot of blood, it seems that he’s no longer bleeding. That could always change of course, and Eiji figures he’ll have to lie to Coach Varishikov so he can sit out during gym. The only issue with that plan is that Eiji is an awful liar. 

At least he can probably entirely skirt around questions about the limp, since his friends know he doesn’t like talking about his ankle.

Eiji pulls on clean clothes, appreciative that winter gives him an excuse to wear layers. The sweater is a favorite of his, soft, beige, and a little moth-eaten. With a generic hoodie over it, nobody can see yesterday’s special reminders.

Ibe isn’t in the kitchen anymore when Eiji returns. He’s spooning some cereal into his mouth at the coffee table, scrolling through his email at breakneck speed. Off-brand Cinnamon Toast Crunch has never looked more appetizing.

“Eat. I can hear your stomach from here, Ei-chan.”

Eiji’s face goes pink. “It’s not that bad…” He says this while pouring cereal and milk into a bowl with more urgency than is considered normal. Maybe he is starving. But Ibe doesn’t need to know that.

He finds himself eating in a similar position to his mentor, only he’s staring at the home screen of his phone and repeatedly missing his mouth with the spoon. The group chat continued to talk even as Eiji slept. Skipper and Ash are staunch night owls, after all.

While he skims through his friends’ exchanges, he does a mental rundown of his schedule and who he shares classes with. So long as he avoids being alone (cornered, trapped, caught), Eiji thinks he can pull through without any repeats. This is what Eiji tells himself.

**[Lorax Movie Discussion Group]**

_ ——7:17 a.m—— _

**God:** It’s not that I think Leorio is hot!!! He’s v fatherly, I love him. In a familial way.

**Ass Lynx:** the bar is on the floor with you, huh?

**God:** I don’t need to take this from a man with like 4 different father figures.

**Ass Lynx:** I don’t know where you’re getting that number, Skip.

**NattoEnthusiast:** Did either of you sleep? At all?

**God:** Bc you have Mr. Glenreed, who’s basically begging to adopt you. Mr. Ibe, who’s Eiji’s parental unit and therefore yours as well. uh, whoever the hell helped conceive you. And whoever you’re living with?

**God:** Gm Eiji!!!! I got a couple hours in. 😎

**Ass Lynx:** If I said yes would you be passive aggressive and keep asking me the same question till I admit the truth?

**God:** also I take it back bc I don’t know who the hell those last two are. You’ve got 2 fathers.

**Ass Lynx:** sure

**NattoEnthusiast:** Max will be pleased to hear about this conversation. ( ◠‿◠ )

**Ass Lynx:** for the love of god, don’t inflate his ego

**NattoEnthusiast** : Are you at the shed yet?

**Ass Lynx:** yeah

By 7:30, Eiji is dragging his feet down the sidewalk, stomach burning with anxiety. He usually shows up to school about an hour early, all because he looks forward to hanging out with Ash and his gang. The Shed is just that— an old shed at the edge of school grounds. Isolated enough that a rowdy bunch of teens can dick around without getting suspended, but close enough to the school that there’s no rush to get to class in the mornings. 

It’s Ash’s stomping ground, so to speak. It’s kind of becoming Eiji’s as well.

He’s spent so many mornings walking this route that pure instinct carries him to his friends. He doesn’t know what he’ll say when he sees them. ‘Hello’ seems too tense, and ‘hey’ seems too casual for the events of yesterday.

And Eiji hates that. He hates having to think about how he’s going to greet his friends. He hates the way his palms are growing clammy when he turns off of the main path and into the grass. He hates the tremor in his steps when he lifts his eyes and spots The Shed— just a little further now, by the treeline where a gaggle of teens murmur nervously.

Bones is sat on top of a trash can, Kong almost joined at his hip. Alex’s eyes flicker to Eiji, and he shakes his head slightly, as if to say ‘ _ stay where you are _ ’. 

Ash is standing in the doorway of the rundown shack, face sour but smirking, and if Eiji squints he can see a hint of a purple mohawk behind him. But he’s not focused on him, nor any of his other friends. He follows Ash’s glare until he lands on that ugly, awful sneer.

Oh, and his heart drops when he sees them. When he sees  _ him _ . 

Frederick Arthur.

Eiji freezes. He damn near withers where he stands, a few yards away. 

“If you want to be his pet, you’re free to go to him. Right, Arthur?” Ash says, voice relaxed yet somehow sharp. He already knows the answer to whatever question it is he just posed.

Arthur seems to get this as well. “You’re the boss,” He says, stuffing his hands into his pockets. There’s a clear divide between him and the other blond. Behind Arthur is Wookie and a few other classmates that Eiji’s noticed to be less than friendly to Ash.

The conversation is over by the time Eiji arrives, and the small crowd of people disperses. People pick their loyalties. Some stand firm behind Ash, and others choose to trail after Arthur as he turns on his heel to leave.

Feet still refusing to move, Eiji clenches his jaw and keeps his eyes pointed at the grass when Arthur notices him. There’s no words. He simply brushes past the boy, and Eiji can almost imagine his lips twitching upwards like he’s the cat who got the cream. The lucky opponent who hit Ash Lynx where it hurts, and all without him even knowing.

_ See you soon, samurai boy. _

Of their own volition, Eiji’s eyes lock on to him. Wrapped around the blond’s hand is a bandage— slightly bloodied —in the exact place he remembers sinking his teeth when Arthur had tried to quiet him.

It doesn’t even begin to compare to Eiji’s wounds. But god, let him have the hope that Arthur gets even more scarred fingers. Fucking bastard.

“Fucking bastard.” Somebody voices his exact thoughts directly behind him. He whirls around, and Shorter is standing there, having stepped from Ash’s side to greet him. It’s almost scary how such a big and bright figure can step so lightly. “Sorry ‘bout that, Eiji.”

“Busy morning, I assume?” Eiji asks. Ash turns and mutters a few quick words to Alex, who nods and starts to pass whatever he’s said along to Bones and Kong. Shorter runs a hand through his hair, tilting his chin to the sky. 

He sighs, “You could say that. Lucky you only caught the tail end of what he was spoutin’.”

“And what was that, exactly?”

“Well, we caught wind of some stuff that Arthur’s been doing— real nasty, by the way, wouldn’t touch the guy with a ten foot pole —and anyways he’s now officially out of the gang and on my hit list.”

“Hit list?”

“Oh, that means-“

“It means you need to be careful,” Ash butts in. Between his low blood pressure, a lack of sleep, and whatever stunt Arthur just pulled, Eiji assumes his mood is rotten. He’s got his arms crossed and his shoulders squared. “Arthur’s been toeing the line for a while now. Finally got sick of being subtle I guess.”

Shorter laughs airily. “Was he ever?”

“Nah.” Ash’s smile is small, but there. “Seriously though, if you see him, turn around and leave.”

Too little, too late, Eiji thinks bitterly. His sudden irritation isn’t directed at Ash, because he couldn’t have known. It’s just so fucking funny, almost hilarious, that this is the second time he’s been warned about Arthur. The blond had always been suspicious, Eiji had always felt that he was unstable, and yet he still couldn’t shut the hell up when it counted.

( _ Eiji’s hand flys up to grip the other’s wrist. _

_ “Let me through.” _ )

He seethes at the actions of his past self. And he does so with a grin. It’s painful to lie to these people, people he knows wouldn’t hesitate to help him should he ever be in a bind. And he’s in quite the big one. “I’ll be sure to do so, as soon as you start sleeping at night.”

“Sure thing, Niichan.” Ash doesn’t whine at the dig— no, the boy has a reputation to uphold —but he does puff his cheeks out a little. It softens Eiji’s inner rage, just a bit. 

“No! If Ash sleeps, then Skip’s gonna start writing full blown essays in the chat for us to wake up to!” Shorter cries.

Ash shakes his head. “You could use the reading comprehension practice, dumbass.”

“First of all, we share English—“

“Shit!”

A metallic bang fills the air, and the next thing Eiji knows, he’s watching Alex and Kong try to pry Bones’ ass out of a trash can. 

“How’d you manage to get your bony ass stuck?!” Alex shouts, gripping the other’s overalls and pulling.

“I thought I could fit!”

“You’re selling your ass short, Bones.”

“ _ YOU JUST CALLED IT BONY _ !”

The joys of American youth.

* * *

Once Bones has been extracted from the garbage prison of his own making, the teens make idle chatter. Eiji takes his usual spot, on a stack of milk crates placed next to the propped open doorway. He has to sit on the side of his legs to dull the pain in his lower back. 

It’s here that he spends his mornings; where the sun’s light is warmest, and the breeze can flow.

He’s quieter than usual. And that’s just fine, because they all are. After the momentary entertainment of the trash can smack down, they have to take inventory; Arthur took a decent chunk of their numbers with him. In some ways, it’s a relief. Most of the guys who left were of a different breed— that is to say, they were assholes.

Eiji’s just glad that he won’t have to see Arthur and Wookie in the mornings anymore.

They all keep up with routine though. Ash is coaxed from his early-in-the-day ill temper by Eiji. Shorter plays Spider Solitaire (Yes, spider solitaire.) with Alex, and then they inevitably get distracted by Subway Surfers on their phones. Kong and Bones’ giggles are near constant white noise, and they only get louder when Skipper arrives half dead on his feet.

“Where’s the bootlickers?” He asks, obviously curious as to why a good portion of the gang is missing.

Shorter explains the situation, much in the same way he did to Eiji, all while trying to dodge Alex’s hands as they grab for his phone.

Skip just hums thoughtfully, “Oh. D’you think I’ve got enough time to nap on the floor before we hit the road?”

“Class starts in 18 minutes, you truant,” Ash says, softened by Eiji’s efforts— as well as the fact that Ash definitely has a soft spot for his (figurative) little brother. Alex and Shorter pause in their tussle.

“Sure does.”

“It’s a 10 minute walk.” Eiji shakes his head, “You’d only have 8 minutes of rest. Can you even fall asleep that fast?”

“Stop being reasonable, Ei-chan.”

Alex pushes Shorter off of him, saying,“Well, I’ve got a perfect attendance record to keep, so I’m gonna leave you-“ Shorter whines. “To stew in defeat.”

He leaves, and Kong and Bones follow, muttering something about seeing if they can disrupt his record. Shorter grins and stumbles after them. Skip looks forlornly at the corner he usually naps in before deciding to attend class on time. And finally, Ash rolls his eyes, but brushes off his jeans and stands.

“Guess that’s our cue as well.”

Eiji’s legs sting when he unfolds them, and Eiji pauses before putting his full weight down. He takes a deep breath and slings his bag over his shoulder. The bolt of pain shooting up his spine tells him that he’s definitely out of commission for gym.

“Are you-?” Ash starts. He’s concerned. He shouldn’t be concerned, he can’t be.

“ _ Ankle. _ ” Eiji snaps through gritted teeth. When he catches Ash’s eyes, guilt floods him for being harsh. 

The other boy has leant towards him slightly, like he’s ready to reach out and support him. His eyes are hesitant and so tired. Ash is exhausted, he notices.

“My ankle— the cold, it is not good for it. Sorry.”

“You apologize way too much.” Ash sighs, stepping back. And now he’s the one who wants to close the distance and support  _ Ash _ .

He’s sorry, but he can’t pinpoint the reason why— or more accurately, can’t pick just one cause. Eiji steps past him and through the door, “Well, I apologize for that too.”

“You’re doing it on purpose now.”

They’re treading through the worn path, and Eiji is struggling to limp across dew-slick blades. Ash slips a little too, and Eiji almost wants to tease him for it. Graceful as a prowling Lynx, that’s what they say about Ash. As if.

“What makes you think that, Ash? I’m just a poor foreign k—“ His voice falters here. Arthur’s voice overlaps his own words, so clear it’s almost as though he was walking beside them. And it’s grating, it’s wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong. “Uh. Poor foreign kid.”

Ash must assume the pause was just Eiji stumbling over his English, because he doesn’t comment. Instead his lips curve up into a smile. And he side-eyes Eiji in a way he often does, the tension in those green eyes melting away to mischief. 

“Don’t play innocent, Niichan. Your true colours have been apparent ever since you fed me that— that monstrosity-“

“Natto.”

“Don’t speak its name in my presence.”

Talking to Ash is calming. Like Eiji’s talking to someone he’s known since childhood, and not some borderline delinquent he met after traveling across the ocean for his senior year. It’s easy conversation.

_ I want to ask him. I want to tell him. _

Eiji feels as though he would open his lips and spill anything, should the breeze blow too hard. Luckily— or perhaps unluckily— the two of them are coming up on the school’s entrance before he knows it.

And even though they keep teasing each other, it’s plain to see that Ash becomes more closed off when they aren’t alone. He doesn’t speak about himself in the hallway. He just keeps twisting the conversation back to Eiji while slipping between slow-walking groups of girls.

Considering that Eiji is trying his hardest not to think about his own issues, this is highly inconvenient. 

“Ash! Eiji!” 

Shorter is standing in the doorway of Mr. Glenreed’s English classroom, an impish grin plastered on his face. He waits until they’re close enough to reach forward and grasp the fronts of their shirts— or, well, Eiji’s shirt. Ash sidesteps the grabbing hand and slides into the classroom with a snicker.

“I’m not getting crushed this morning.”

“There’s nothing wrong with givin’ the homies a lil’ squeeze! Right, Eiji?” Shorter says, so petulant that Eiji can for once see him as the little brother he really is.

Shorter’s love language is touch— Eiji learned this within days of meeting him —so it’s not a surprise when he pulls Eiji in and slings an arm over his shoulder. It’s not a surprise, but Eiji still goes stiff as a board.

“You saw me just a few minutes ago. I need to sit down.” Where he once might have melted into the hug, Eiji raises a shaky palm and pushes it against Shorter’s chest. It reminds him of when he almost recoiled from Ibe. Neither of them would ever intentionally hurt him. He knows this.  _ He knows this _ .

But they scare him.

Shorter peers down at him for a second, eyes flickering and his smile never dimming. That’s another thing Eiji’d learned about Shorter; he’s good at reading people. It’s something of his specialty, where Ash is a jack of all trades. 

Eiji musters up the energy to smile back.

The staring continues for maybe a beat longer than it needs to, and then Shorter is pulling away. Whether or not he’s satisfied with the strained smile he received, Eiji doesn’t know. 

Eiji lowers himself into his seat— diagonal to Ash, and just behind Shorter. Most of the class has already arrived. Mr. Glenreed ducks into the classroom just before the bell rings, and Ash mutters something beneath his breath.

Eiji can’t help himself. He leans across his desk and teases the blond.

“What would you say... if I was serious about telling Max that you endorsed Skipper labeling him as your father?”

Ash turns his head slowly, so slow Eiji knows it’s intentional. Shorter feigns terror with wide eyes.

“Don’t you dare.”

And Eiji giggles, light and quiet, before sinking back into his seat. Shorter pokes Ash and doesn’t say anything, just grins from ear to ear. And if looks could kill, Shorter would be halfway across River Styx.

When Mr. Glenreed takes attendance, they’re (save a few scattered fits of laughter) mostly quiet. Eiji respects him, he’s a close friend of Ibe’s, and he genuinely cares for his students. Ash thinks he’s weird, though Eiji can’t understand why.

Besides, the quiet of class time gives Eiji a moment to think. Max’s voice fades to the back of his mind. His eyes trace patterns in the wooden grain of his desk. He picks at the hem of his hoodie. He feels ill. 

Eiji needs to spend this class planning, because during the next period he’ll be trapped in a classroom with Arthur for an hour and a half. And where Arthur goes, his phone is sure to be. He feels ill.

At least if a teacher catches him stealing it, that will eliminate like 14 steps in his (very unlikely to happen) plan to tell someone what happened.

Eiji feels very ill.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drop a comment rn 🔫🧍🏼 Jkjk but for a story I started with like— zero plans to continue, I’m actually really enjoying writing this. (Even tho I’m a bit slow lol)
> 
> Also don’t tell anybody but this is my first fanfic so I’m kind of winging it 🥴


	4. 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Japanese dialogue will be bolded. 🌝

Now, there are a few ways Eiji can go about this.

One: He could just try and snatch the phone while Arthur isn’t looking. This would hinge on the hope that the blond isn’t one of the deranged people who sits with their phone in their pocket.

Two: He… well. He could always… huh. Oh. 

Okay, so there’s one way Eiji can go about this. There is no second method he can come up with that doesn’t immediately expose the exact secret he’s trying to keep. And Eiji’d rather die than explain why he was stealing a phone to the entire class.

English passes by much quicker than usual, and Eiji finds himself starting to pack up his bag. In his notebook, the fresh page he’d flipped to at the beginning of class remains empty. Well, whatever. He’ll figure out the assignments later.

“Blegh, Mrs. Coleman’s gonna kill me,” Shorter laments as the bell rings, “I forgot to do the stupid study guide.” Then he turns his head to Ash, sticking his bottom lip out slightly.

“I’m not giving you the answers.”

“C’mon!”

“Shorter, he’s not going to give in.” Eiji stands, slinging his bag over his shoulders.

“Then… will you…?” The Chinese boy reaches out and clasps Eiji’s hands.

“No.” Eiji pulls his hands away and flicks him on the forehead. “Good luck with Mrs. Coleman, though.”

Shorter groans and Ash grins, face smug.

It’s only when they’ve left the classroom and start to go their separate ways that Eiji gets really nervous. Ash splits off from their group in the hall first, headed in the opposite direction. Shorter ruffles Eiji’s hair affectionately before disappearing into Mrs. Coleman’s math classroom.

He’s alone again. Well, as alone as one could feel in a hall bustling with shoving students. Which is apparently pretty fucking alone.

The dreaded moment _finally_ arrives, and Eiji shuffles through the threshold of the door to Mr. Dawson’s civics class. His palms are sweaty. Swallowing becomes difficult.

The bell rings. He scans the room, careful, cautious. It’s assigned seating, Eiji knows exactly where to look. 

Sitting in his seat— just behind Eiji’s own —Arthur is there, twirling a pencil around his fingers. It’s reminiscent of the few times Eiji has seen Arthur draw his blade; always flipping, tossing, and turning it over his fingers again and again. Eiji’d been so impressed the first time he saw Arthur do that. Back then, Arthur was just a rude American with a cool knife.

He’s not looking at Eiji, so Eiji doesn’t look at him. He doesn’t.

Tense and almost robotic, Eiji starts to walk through the rows to sit. He passes by a worried Alex, who stops him with a light tap on the forearm. He looks up at Eiji from his seat.

“I can switch with you, y’know? Dawson probably won’t notice,” he whispers.

Eiji’s eyes widen a little, but he smooths the expression. Alex is a natural worrywart. And had this been a universe where the picture had never been taken, Eiji may have taken him up on the offer.

Instead, he shakes his head “Thank you, but I’ll be okay. He can’t do anything at school.” Or at least, not while class was in session.

Alex frowns, and nods his head after a moment’s hesitation. Eiji keeps walking. Alex is a good four seats in front of him. He hates the stupid seating chart.

He doesn’t hesitate to drop into his seat, although the pain makes him regret his haste. Eiji barely pulls a notebook out from his bag when Arthur decides they’ve ignored each other long enough.

“I can’t do anything at school, huh? You’re shit at whispering,” a pause, “Guess I knew that already.”

Eiji grimaces. He smacks the notebook onto the desk. His fists are clenching; he can’t tell if it’s from anger or fear.

His voice outright refuses to cooperate, English failing him for just a moment. That happens a lot around Arthur. Pencil in a vice grip, Eiji tries to write the subject in the corner of a fresh page. The letters come out janky and stilted. 

_‘Thursday, Novenmbre 19th, Civiics’_. That’s not right at all. It looks off. He can’t even place how, frustration building. The spelling is just at the edge of his memory, but the words are slurring together.

He can feel eyes at the back of his head. Eiji sucks in a shuddering breath.

He erases the heading and starts again.

‘ _Thursday_ , _Nouvembere 19th, Civics’_. Still wrong. It’s still wrong. Eiji can’t figure out why.

“How studious,” Arthur snorts, and there’s that frustration again. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. It’s the fear rooting him in place, otherwise he’d fly over the desk between them and deck this fucker.

Instead, Eiji ducks his head. This is too much. Being near Arthur is just like pouring salt on a gaping wound. He’s not sure if he can do this— this little _operation_ , stealing the phone, finding the picture, forgetting that anything happened at all. Hell, he doesn’t even have a plan beyond _grabbing the fucking thing_!

Mr. Dawson strolls in late, looking a little sweaty. He must’ve ran. “Hello class! Sorry for the late start—“ He starts, and then the blood rushing through Eiji’s ears drowns him out. Still, he watches the movements of Mr. Dawson’s arms as he speaks.

Minutes tick by. Eiji still can’t really parse the words coming from the front of the classroom. The page of his notebook remains blank— save for the smudged heading in the corner. Dread weighs every limb and he struggles not to hunch over the desk. And then opportunity comes knocking.

There’s a slight rustle of movement behind him, and Mr. Dawson pauses his lecture. “Bathroom? Take a pass.” He addresses Arthur’s raised hand.

Arthur grunts in affirmation, and stands. This is it. This is _it._ The blond saunters down the aisle with just a passing glance to Eiji, before plucking a bathroom pass off the door handle. In a breath, he’s disappeared into the hall.

The clock starts ticking. Eiji edges his foot behind him until it hits Arthur’s bag; he’d shoved it beneath Eiji’s seat apparently. He hooks the strap around his ankle and pulls it fully beneath his desk. 

Wetting his lips, Eiji snakes a hand down to the bag’s zipper— wary of his classmates hearing him. The phone is easy enough to locate: a rectangular bulge in one of the smaller pockets.

It’s _almost_ anticlimactic; Eiji opens the pocket just enough to tug the phone out, and then slides it quietly into his own bag. _Almost,_ because the pounding in his skull makes everything seem like life or death.

He zips Arthur’s bag shut and nudges it back behind his desk with his heel. No sooner has he returned it than the classroom door creaks open.

Eiji rewrites the heading. Arthur takes his seat wordlessly.

‘ _Thursday, November 19th, Civics_ ’.

Success.  
  


* * *

Excusing himself from Alex once the bell rings is pretty easy; He points out Eiji’s shaking hands and pale face, which Eiji shrugs off.

“I wasn’t feeling well last night,” He says, “Maybe I should go to the nurse.”

Alex nods, craning his neck to see over the clog of students shoving their way out the door. “Go ahead. I love you, but not enough to have you puke your guts on my shoes.”

“Of course, Alex. I’ll see you later.”

“Enjoy the long weekend,” Alex calls out just as Eiji manages to squeeze through the doorway. Usually they’d walk to the cafeteria together and join up with everyone else. But today Eiji takes a right instead of a left.

He has no intention of visiting the nurse. The phone feels like a 30 tonne boulder in his bag, and he’d rather be rid of it as fast as possible.

The hallway is beginning to clear up— save the odd straggler —and it’s almost eerily quiet when he steps into the nearest boys’ restroom. Eiji sequesters himself in the stall furthest from the door. He has to ignore the bloom of anxiety in his chest.

It’s so reminiscent of yesterday. The way the walls seem to loom over him. He pulls the phone from the bag.

Arthur’s case is scratched to hell. Eiji taps the power button, and the screen lights up to reveal a screensaver of some album cover he doesn’t recognize. And then it asks for a passcode.

“Fuck,” he breathes out desperately. “No. No, no, no, no, _noooo_.”

How the hell did he not see this coming? Password protection is basically step one to owning a phone! 

Eiji clenches his jaw and throws his head back in frustration. It collides against the side of the stall with a _bang_. Yelping, he drops the phone to clap a hand over his skull, barely registering the clatter it makes on the tiles.

“Owww. **Am I stupid or something?”** He cracks his eyes open, and before he can berate himself any further— he notices. There’s a new crack on the phone screen. A new crack.

Eiji pulls some toilet paper from the dispenser and lays it flat on the ground. He pops the case off, then places the phone gently onto the paper. After a breath, he stomps on it.

So much for dropping the phone off at lost and found after getting the picture deleted.

Stomping it doesn’t work that well. Eiji settles on snapping the phone in half, and then stomping on it again. When he’s sure that nobody— fucking _nobody_ —will ever see him like that again, he gathers the pieces into the tissue and exits the stall. He dumps the remains into the garbage.

It’s not until he glances up and sees himself in the bathroom mirror that he realizes he’s crying. And it’s not until the bell rings twenty minutes later for the end of lunch that he stops. And then he really _does_ vomit into a toilet.

Good call, Alex.

He pulls his bag over his shoulder, and wipes his mouth with his sleeve. Okay. Phone’s gone. Looks like it’s nurse time after all.

Eiji drags himself through the school, white as a sheet and sweating. The halls are once again filled with bustling teens. The noise is rattling the base of Eiji’s skull; he bites back a grimace when he knocks on the nurse’s door. 

“Nurse Brandish? Are you busy?”

He can make out the sound of sheafs of paper rustling, and then the door swings open. Nurse Brandish peers out at him.

Almost immediately, her expression turns upwards into soft surprise. “Oh dear, are you alright?” And Eiji realizes that he must look like a walking corpse to incite that sort of reaction.

“Um. I threw up,” He says dumbly while she ushers him inside, “in the, uh, bathroom.”

Nurse Brandish nods, maneuvering around her desk in the cramped space to grab the thermometer. She gestures for Eiji to open his mouth and he complies.

“You’re Mr. Ibe’s son, correct?” She says as soon as the thermometer hits his tongue. He hums in disagreement, a little frustrated that she waited until he couldn’t respond. 

After a few seconds, Eiji is free to speak. “No, but Ibe-san is the one who offered to house me in America. He’s like an uncle to me.” 

The nurse throws away the dirtied part of the thermometer. “That was very kind of him.” She says, and then, “You have a 102.1 fever.” Oh.

“I…” Eiji blinks at her, “Ok. Is it possible for me to go to Ibe-san’s classroom for the final hour? It’s his free period right now, and I don’t think I can walk home.”

“That’s alright. If you could just tell me the name of your fourth period teacher, I’ll let them know that you’re going home.”

Eiji finishes the last of the formalities, a little giddy that he gets to skip gym. He waves to Nurse Brandish and sets off for Ibe’s classroom.

Hallways during class have always been creepy to Eiji. It feels wrong and hollow. Every soft pat of his shoes against the tiles seems to be amplified in the silence. Ordinarily he wouldn’t notice, but just beneath the din of the fluorescent lighting, he can make out footsteps.

And there’s something in his gut that tells him to run. He speeds up, just a little.

“It was you.”

Eiji glances back on instinct. 

“Arthur,” he gasps, the blond walks only feet behind him— way closer than he would’ve guessed.

“You’ve already proven that you’re a thief. I had to go back for my knife.” He has the knife. He has the knife, the knife, _the knife_. “Where’s my phone?”

Eiji gulps, feels the hair on the back of his neck prickle; the pads of Arthur’s fingers brush his shoulder, no doubt intending to grab.

Without another word, Eiji breaks into a sprint.

He hears Arthur curse, hears footsteps make chase. His legs and back burn with molten agony, but he refuses to slow. He turns the corner so sharply he nearly bowls over. And there it is.

Ibe’s classroom door is shut when Eiji skids up, before frantically banging on it.

He notices, belatedly, that Arthur has given up pursuing him. The blond probably realized that attacking Eiji in an open hallway wasn’t in his best interests.

Which is why it’s embarrassing when Ibe opens the door to him trembling, leaning against the wall for support.

“Ei-chan?” He starts, and then Eiji is already interrupting the older man.

“ **I’m gonna throw up, I’m gonna throw up—** “ Eiji warns.

Ibe reacts quickly, Eiji will give him credit. He lunges for the trash bin and shoves it in Eiji’s arms just in time for him to throw up nothing but water and bile. He grimaces, watching his charge crumple to the floor.

“ **Hold on just a minute, I’ll bring you home** ,” Ibe soothes in their native tongue, rushing to gather his things. “ **I shouldn’t have let you come to school today**.”

Eiji just groans. He rests his forehead on the lip of the trashcan. One half of him wants to believe that it's over— no more pictures, no more knives, no more _hands_ touching where they aren’t welcomed. But the other half knows better. Arthur’s going to be furious once he finds out that Eiji destroyed his phone, and Wookie will probably jump at any chance to get his turn.

But right now he lets Ibe fuss over him, let’s himself be pulled up and guided down the hall, outside, and into the car. The issue could wait until he gets back on Monday.

Eiji leans back against the head rest.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs to no one in particular.

“It’s not your fault,” Ibe replies, turning the key in the ignition. Despite it being about something completely different, Eiji lets himself believe those words for a moment.

Eiji closes his eyes; he lets himself breathe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the long ass comments last chapter, they singlehandedly kicked my ass into gear to finish this chapter. 🧐 We really do be psychoanalysing the motivation behind every character in this fic


	5. 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha... hey y’all... hope you’ve had a good *sweats* six months. I am now medicated for depression. It’s super cool, I can focus and shit— I just throw up occasionally.
> 
> Anyways 😶 here’s your chapter please god take it

“ **It’s flu season, you know** ,” Ibe says as he draws the blinds shut. The light had been making Eiji’s temples throb. “ **I guess your immune system couldn’t last until** Thanksgiving.”

The fever abated a few hours after he and Ibe stumbled through the front door— but Eiji’s exhaustion had beaten him down so thoroughly that he decided to seize the opportunity to rest.

Eiji mumbles into his pillow. “ **I forgot that was a thing** ,” He lifts his face and continues, “Bones told me… that his aunt makes the best baked macaroni and cheese for their Thanksgiving dinner.”

Ibe blinks at the boy, before a sudden smile splits across his face. Eiji’s cheeks flush. If you were to ask why, he’d blame it on the fever.

“Ei-chan, I brought you to America to try new things, and the first thing you tell me you’re interested in is baked Mac n cheese?” Shaking his head, Ibe giggles good-naturedly.

Huffing, Eiji rolls over and pulls the duvet over his head. ‘To try new things’. He was here because of a depression. He squashes the flicker of unpleasant memories from Japan.

“ **Well I guess I’m never opening up to you again** ,” Eiji calls out, a bit guilty of his word choice. But Ibe doesn’t know the things Eiji does, and all he gets in response is a breathy chuckle and receding footsteps. Because it's a joke. Of course.

**“Rest well, okay?”**

His bedroom door clicks shut. 

Three days. For three days Eiji ends up scarcely moving from his bed.

Most of it is spent stealing fleeting snatches of sleep— and, oddly, it isn’t just the storage room that slips into his mind (though it certainly does make appearances). He dreams of that final flight, the explosion of pain in his ankle when he hit the ground at  _ just _ the wrong angle.

Eiji dreams about his father. Of Saturday morning cartoons playing on hospital TVs. White walls. Stiff chairs. ‘Get well soon!’ cards that remain unopened on Kaasan’s dresser. An immaculate bedsheet pulled over Otousan’s face to hide the stillness of his body.

And then Eiji dreams no more. 

When he isn’t curled beneath a mound of blankets, Eiji showers. It didn’t occur to him until Ibe goes to bed the first night; the teen had absently wondered why the fever set in so quickly.

‘ _ A tear inside there would get infected really easily, wouldn’t it? _ ’

And god,  _ that _ kicked Eiji into gear. He remembers padding over to the bathroom in the dead of night, peeling the clothes from his body— and then spending the next hour trying to convince himself to put his fingers anywhere near the damage.

(He’s not even sure why the idea of his own fingers scares him.)

But he does manage it, eventually. Underneath the spray of water, Eiji does the best he can at cleaning himself. It doesn’t  _ seem _ infected, but when you have no experience with things like this, you can’t help second-guessing yourself.

Eiji settles on a tentative ‘not infected, just a very poorly timed fever’. Or, he supposes, a stress induced sickness. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s stretched himself thin to the point of poor health.

The group chat (mainly Skipper, Kong, and Shorter) fusses to him while he’s out, blowing up his phone even during class.

**[Lorax Movie Discussion Group]**

**Taller** : pleabse get welll soon Bones is bullying me

**God:** Important question— are you wearing your green vest? bc if so you deserve it 😪🤤

**NattoEnthusiast** : Aren’t you in Math?

**Taller** : y

**Taller** : yes to both

**Empire State Building** : Don’t worry Shorter, I support your questionable fashion choices

**Empire State Building** : I don’t 👺 —Cool Guy Bones

**Taller** : Text me yourself, calcium boy 😠

**Empire State Building** : I 🔊DONT🔊HAVE🔊A🔊PHONE —Angry Guy Bones

  
  


So on, so forth. It’s typical banter for the Stooges, something Eiji has come to expect and find comfort in. It’s a few hours of messaging before he notices something strange.

**NattoEnthusiast** : Did Ash forget his phone?

**Taller** : what

**Taller** : Oh, lmao. I think yall got each other sick idk

**Taller** : he has not graced us with his holy presence today

**Taller** : honestly he’s probably passed out in his bed, dead to the world

**Taller** : dw his immune system is titanium babey

**Taller** : but maybe not titanium bc he’s sick, so like, copper

**Empire State Building** : Ay Shorter you might want to repeat yourself I don’t think Eiji heard you say he’s sick —Bones

**Taller** : Bones what the FUCK is up your ass today,, you text more from Kong’s phone than Kong himself

**God** : Yeah stop being mean. That’s my job 🥱

A sliver of dread irks at Eiji; Shorter is withholding the full story  _ again _ .

He only misses school on Friday, and by Sunday he’s just a little fatigued. He’s still uneasy about a potential infection, but the fever is clearing up for now. 

_ ‘Hopefully it’s not like Hypothermia, like how people say they start to feel warm during the final stages of the condition,’  _ Eiji thinks to himself on Sunday night, nursing a mug of hot chocolate in his bed. It’d be a cruel twist of fate for him to die now.  _ ‘Whoever does my autopsy will probably be in for quite the surprise when they see me naked.’ _

The mug clinks as he sets it on his nightstand. 

_ ‘Ash is rubbing off on me.’  _ The thought comes, unbidden, of Ash thinking the same things— making the same bitter jokes for only himself, to cope. It’s scarily easy to picture him going through the motions just as Eiji is now. 

He has to talk to Ash eventually. He has to.

_ Will he understand?  _ It’s sad, but probably.

_ Will he help me? _ Of course he will. You’re friends.

_ Would he blame me?  _ That… remains to be seen.

He sighs and slumps against his pillows, eyeing the worn edges of the few posters pinned to the walls. He’s recovering, yes, but he’s no closer to feeling truly better. The phone was just a step.

Now he just has to steel himself for the worst.

————

On the upside, Eiji is up and running on Monday. Well— not  _ running _ , but he feels slightly lighter, less nauseated. The physical pain is still there though, and he’s starting to find the limping to be more and more of a hindrance.

“Woah, did you run a mile or something, Eiji?” 

“Good morning to you too, Shorter.” The boy murmurs, expression pinched into a frown. 

The shed is quieter today. Only a few teens sit outside, chatting and picking at dead weeds. Sing is hastily doing a worksheet with a pen that’s running low on ink. Kong is laying flat on his back in the grass, Bones draped over him. Skipper has tucked himself into their sides. All three snore peacefully.

Eiji is considering joining the pile.

Shorter and Alex sit side by side against a pile of hurdles. He uses the term ‘side by side’ loosely, because Shorter has leaned into Alex’s shoulder so heavily that the latter needs to support himself with his elbow.

“There’s still 20 minutes to class you know,” Shorter continues, voice airy. “You didn’t have to run.”

Dumping his bag to the floor of the shed, Eiji just huffs, “I didn’t run in the first place. Recovering takes energy, you know!”

Eiji knows he looks a mess, the pain in his back is pulsating and not a moment goes by where he isn’t holding his breath for the next sharp stab. And now the autumn air really  _ is _ getting to his ankle. Walking is a chore. 

Alex shoves Shorter off of him. “I’m not gonna say you look great, but you don’t look like you’re a sneeze away from keeling over anymore.”

“It’s the little things!”

Slumping back against the other teen, Shorter grins.

“Mm.” Eiji sits on the edge of a milk crate. A quick scan of the room and sprawling lot outside. “But Ash is still not back?”

The frown crosses Shorter’s face so quick that he almost doesn’t catch it, and Alex’s expression is carefully impassive.

Shorter covers his slip up with a lax smile, running a hand through his mohawk. “Nah. Guess he’s got some kind of flu kicking his ass.”

Oh, Eiji is  _ not _ going to let this go. There are few moments in his life where he’s had such a strong gut feeling. This squeezing, rolling burn in his throat that’s screaming  _ something’s wrong, something’s off. _

People are keeping secrets from him. And maybe he does know why. He  _ knows  _ there’s two prowling teens that are hunting for the weakest link to hurt Ash. And Eiji is almost positive that there’s a rich old man who already has hurt him, time and time again.

So maybe it does sting that Eiji is perhaps the last person to figure it out— unless Shorter and Alex are the only ones to know. But he’s going to need to wait to get Shorter alone.

Eiji leans back and folds his hands in his lap. He forces a playful smile. “If this keeps up he’ll manage to get an extra long break.”

“Oh shit! I forgot Thanksgiving was a thing!” Alex jolts. At Shorter’s humorous side eye, he bites out, “Don’t start, I’ve been busy!”

“I knew I was not the only one! Ibe-san thinks it’s funny that I forget the holiday, but even you Americans can’t keep up with it!” Eiji points accusingly.

Shorter looks offended. “Don’t lump me in with you two grandparents!”

“You are older than us—“

Kong’s rumbling voice cuts through, evidently awoken. “QUIET! Please.”

————————

The Thanksgiving battle ends with three casualties: Kong, Bones, and Skipper, whose naps were interrupted so abruptly that they got no satisfaction from the sleep at all. More important than three ruined sleep schedules though— it completely lowers Shorter’s guard.

They’ve only just settled into their desks in English when Eiji springs the question.

“Shorter.”

“Hm?”

“Where does Ash live?”

Shorter doesn’t miss a beat, smoothly pulling a notebook from his bag.

He licks his lips. “Hell if I know.”

“You’ve been to his house before.” His eyes are sharp but he has the strongest urge to break eye contact with Shorter. “Recently. You told me so last week.”

Shorter Wong is not stupid. He knows when he’s been caught. “Eiji…” he starts, and  _ he _ lowers his eyes. “Ash’s… guardian really doesn’t like random kids coming to his doorstep. “

Eiji grips the edge of the desk.

“I’ve got the worst feeling, Shorter. Something’s wrong.”

“It’s been wrong.” Quiet as a mouse, Shorter raises his eyes to meet Eiji once again. “I don’t think it’s my place to say anything.”

“Then don’t. Please, I just— take me there, or, or just give the address and I’ll go check on him myself. I swear I’ll take the blame.”

Shorter chuckles, breathlessly. “Eiji, I don’t think Ash could ever truly blame you for something.  _ Me _ , though? He’d fucking castrate me if I sent you there.” 

Eiji doesn’t know what sets him apart from Shorter, can’t really think of anything that would prevent Ash from being angry at him in particular. 

“I don’t really understand,” He says so softly his voice is almost drowned beneath the classroom bustle. “You don’t need to tell me anything. I just have to know if Ash is alright.”

“You’re not going to let this go, huh?” 

“Not a chance.”

Shorter pulls back, and Eiji realizes that they’d been hunching closer and closer together. He leans back in his seat as well. There’s a brief worry that a classmate may have heard their conversation, but when he glances around most are rapt with their own conversations.

“Can we... wait a few more days before doing anything stupid? I’m not blowing you off—” He better not be. “I just don’t want Ash to dropkick my ass. And with you— Ash’s home life isn’t the best. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

A breath, “Alright.”

——-

To make a long story short, nothing has been going Eiji’s way lately. He does drop the subject though, much to Shorter’s relief. However he can’t help but feel like he’s failed Ash somehow.

God, he doesn’t even know what he’d  _ do _ if he found Ash’s address. Golzine is ‘old money’, rich and powerful; A pedophile too, as the rich and powerful tend to be! The very notion that Eiji could- could  _ swoop _ in and save Ash like some kind of knight? It’s laughable. He can’t even save himself.

And yet he still wants to try.

Tension must be rolling off Eiji in waves. He shifts in his desk, glancing at Shorter, who looks considerably more relaxed. He’d be jealous if he didn’t know that the other was probably feeling just as awkward.

I mean what is Shorter supposed to say? 

‘Oh yeah, our mutual best friend is being abused by a powerful man who has connections to this school and could likely get you booted back to Japan (or worse), but I have to be extremely vague about everything surrounding the situation because I’m under the impression that you think this is a simple case of neglect or isolation.’

It kind of has a ring to it. And Eiji should really get around to telling the truth sometime.

**Three Things Okumura Eiji Knows That People Don’t Know He Knows**

  * Starting off strong: Arthur and Wookie operate on a ‘by any means necessary’ agenda, and are willing to stoop to the lowest level just to hurt Ash. Unfortunately this was learned from first-hand experience.
  * Golzine has some form of claim over Ash (information courtesy of Wookie’s blabbermouth). Eiji can deduce that the old man is the mysterious ‘guardian’ that both Shorter and Skipper have mentioned.
  * Last, and most importantly, he knows he’s being lied to by friend and douche alike. Of course.



Eiji should really get around to telling the truth sometime, but ignorance is bliss, and what happened 3 days ago will never happen again. It was bad and wrong and he will get over it with time. Ash is probably worse off at the moment, and the thought of him being ra— 

being—

Being held down and—

_ Fuck _ .

In some room with faceless people, maybe—

_ God, oh god _ .

Or maybe on a tile floor with dim lighting and hands in his hair on his neck and flesh sliding against flesh and laughter and kni—

_ This isn’t about me!  _

He needs to calm down. Mr. Glenreed, bless his heart, is demonstrating proper MLA bibliography format on the projector. Just a review from years’ past, but Eiji focuses his everything into it. School is bland and bland is  _ just _ what he needs.

The tasks that Mr. Glenreed assigns are substantial enough to center Eiji for the time being; A simple essay on a subject of the students’ choosing. Then he sets the class off to do whatever work they please for the next 30 minutes. Eiji’s been neglecting his schoolwork for the past few days, might as well work on them now. He’s always liked teachers who give class time to do homework.

He manages two worksheets, his less-than-phenomenal English reading comprehension skills slowing him down. Oh well. The distractions served their purpose.

“Don’t forget to start on the rough draft tonight, you’ll have all of Thanksgiving break to get this done.” Flipping through some paper at his desk, Mr. Glenreed starts his end-of-class spiel. Someone groans, and like a switch has been flipped, the entire class is jostling to zip up their bags.

Shorter shoves papers to the bottom of his bag. “I think I might do my essay on different cooking styles,” he says, and the whiplash from their last conversation to this one has Eiji’s head spinning.

“It wouldn’t be a very good one then.”

Scoffing, Shorter heaves himself out of his seat. “The guys have made you so mean! Bullies, all of em.” He scrunches his shoulders a little. “I’ll see you at lunch?”

Eiji doesn’t look up as he pulls his bag on, “Of course.”

———

Arthur does not utter a word for the entirety of 2nd period. It’s truly a grand show of self restraint on his part— Eiji bets he’s  _ itching _ to take another stab at him (pun intended).

He’s practically livid when Eiji greets Alex and takes his usual seat. 

_ I did break his phone, to be fair,  _ Eiji thinks, before immediately backtracking.  _ Because he deserved it and way, way more. _

Not to crown himself a saint or anything, Eiji likes to think he did the right thing. And sometimes the right thing is grinding your classmate’s phone into teeny tiny shards of glass and spite.

_ The point is  _ that 2nd period passes peacefully. Unsettling (—terrifying, wrong, eerie—) as a quiet Arthur willing him dead with eyes alone is, Eiji manages to get through panic-attack free. It must be a Thanksgiving miracle, or something of the sort.

The bell rings just as Eiji finishes scrawling out his notes on the Bill of Rights. His lettering is messy, chicken scratch compared to if he was writing, say, a letter. Ash would tease him mercilessly for it.

He gathers his things and stands, in his peripheral he can see Arthur and many others doing the same. Eiji scurries out of the door before the other has a chance to get a word in. It’ll be easy to lose him in the cafeteria, if he tries to follow.

Although Eiji does feel a bit guilty for ditching Alex, he knows that they’ll meet at their regular table. He weaves between different groups of chattering students stood still along the lockers. Their laughter and squeals make Eiji’s head throb.

Ducking his head, Eiji rubs his eyes until he sees spots. 

“—ou, but may I speak with you for a moment-”

Eiji collides against something solid, stumbling back with a gasp. A hand grasps onto his collar and steadies him, and Eiji finally looks up, following the length of the arm until he comes face to face with Coach Varishikov. Stood halfway in the door of his office is the eldest Lee, Principal Wang Lung, with a bemused look gracing his face. 

“I-” Eiji chokes out, “My apologies, I wasn’t looking— wasn’t watching where I was walking! I’m sorry.” He bows his head jerkily halfway through, almost as an afterthought. The coach’s expression melts from its blank stare to a slight smile.

“You’re alright, Okumura. I’m easy to miss,” The coach jokes, being 6’5” and built like an ox,”Hurry off to lunch now,” Varishikov is quick to smooth over the apology, squeezing Eiji’s shoulder assuringly, but Eiji just suppresses a shudder in response.

“Sorry again, sir-”

Wang Lung interjects, “How are you enjoying your stay in America, Eiji?” 

Eiji pauses, lifting his eyes to meet the prying look of the principal. His gut churns, feeling oddly exposed, just like that first meeting way back when Eiji had first come to this school. He hadn’t considered it before— perhaps it wasn’t only Dino making him uneasy at the time. Dino, Arthur, Wookie, and now Wang Lung. They all had the same look in their eyes, the same twist in their lips.

He swallows thickly, “I like it a lot. It’s very... different from Japan. The people are very rude when they speak, but they’re nice when you need help. They’re rowdy too.”

“Ah, of course. You’re friends with Wong and his type,” Wang Lung says, somewhat distastefully, tearing his eyes away. Eiji furrows his brow. 

“They’ve treated me nothing but kindly.” He jumps to defend, even at the barest hint of insult from the principal.

Wang Lung’s face flashes with irritation, “I never said they haven’t, Okumura,” He says, and then lowers his voice. “You should be careful around such delinquents. There are those who would…” He straightens his posture, eyes flitting to look Eiji up and down. “who would abuse your naivety.”

“ _ I know. _ ” Eiji murmurs, shifting under the scrutiny.

Coach Varishikov clears his throat, “I think we ought to let the boy eat now. I still need to speak with you.”

“Of course, Blanca.” Wang Lung turns away from Eiji, waving a hand down the hall. “Enjoy the food, Eiji.”

Eiji bows his head one last time before forcing himself to walk as calmly as possible to the cafeteria. He feels weak at the knees. Where do these people keep coming from? Why do they keep looking at Eiji like that? He doesn’t think he’s all that attractive, rather childish looking really. Surely Coach Varishikov noticed it. If he didn’t, does that mean Eiji is becoming paranoid?

He brings his lunch to school, so there’s no need to wait in line for food. He’s suppressing the urge to vomit as plops his bag down at the group lunch table— Bones and Kong at his right and Shorter to his left. 

“Sorry,” he says, “I ran into Coach Varishikov. Literally.”

Kong whistles, “How many of your bones broke on impact?”

Eiji’s smile is stilted and strange, he can feel it. “None, but I almost broke my skull on the tile.”

“Yeah. that’ll do it too,” Shorter says with a mouthful of food.

“Chew,” Yut Lung, a Junior who doesn’t seem to like anyone, spits from his spot at the end of the table. Feminine in looks, and biting in speech, he’s been ostracised by most of his classmates. Eiji has a feeling that if anyone else could stand him, Yue would leave this table behind without a glance— that is, only if Sing would leave with him. “This isn’t a pig pen.”

“Chewing takes time, Yue!” Shorter swallows, waving his fork across the table. Alex rolls his eyes.

“Still gross.” Yue pushes his food around his plate absently. He glances at the clock hung above the double doorway.

“What’re y’all doing for Thanksgiving?” Skipper asks, stabbing his fork into a burnt hot dog.

Bones sighs dreamily, “Stuffing my face and watching the parade at my aunt’s.”

“Briefly popping in at Bone’s aunt’s place and grabbing a place of pasta before going home and eating my mom’s cooking.” Says Kong with a smile.

“Nadia and I are closing down Chang Dai and eating some gourmet KFC wing bucket. Dark meat. Then I have free reign.” Shorter cheers.

“Same thing as Shorter.” Sing chimes in.

Alex shrugs. “Eating some mac n’ cheese, I guess.”

Yue sips his drink. “Now that you bring it up, if anyone wants to come over to my house to drink and watch a few movies, I don’t care. Just don’t show up earlier than 6.”

Alex perks up a little, having expected to spend Thanksgiving alone. Skipper must also feel the same because he gasps happily.

“Shorter and I could come, after we finish eating with Nadia and Lao.” Sing volunteers up Shorter, who looks slightly irked by this development.

Kong and Bones share a look, “We might make it too.”

“I can probably make it. Ibe-san and I don’t celebrate Thanksgiving, so I’m free that day.” Eiji says. Yue looks at Eiji scathingly. Okay, so maybe the youngest Lee has never liked Eiji.

The youngest Lee. Shit. “Ah, but won’t your brothers be upset with all the guests?”

“I live alone.” Yue says simply, not looking at Eiji.

“Oh…” Eiji says sheepishly, however the answer is a relief. Now Eiji won’t have to spend the holiday alone, and he doesn’t have to worry about the gut feeling he has for Wang Lung.

“So we’re all going to Yue’s after dinner?” Skipper asks.

“Yup,” Alex confirms on everyone’s behalf.

The bell rings, and Yue is the first to stand. “Just text if you cancel, okay?”

Their voices chorus in agreement, people scooping their crumbs into napkins and packing up tupperware. Eiji only nibbled at his food, but he’s not feeling especially hungry anymore.

Break is coming, and soon Eiji will be worry free for a week. Perks of mandatory holidays, he supposes. He just hopes that Ash gets to spend it with them too.

His hope is dwindling.

**Author's Note:**

> Once again, so sorry


End file.
